Janus
by solitaryloner
Summary: Janus, the God of Doorways - a hypocrite of sorts. Miki has a public face, elegant and seemingly kind. She has a private face too, one she rarely shows to anyone...save for someone by the name of Piko Utatane. Someone who was capable of riling her up in a way no one else ever could. Because he was different - he was the one who brought out her Janus. For MizuneMinamiki. PikoXMiki.


_**Solitaryloner: **__I decided that I was in a good mood today, so I wrote a little something for a friend. PikoXMiki (I admit that I don't actively ship this pairing myself, but I am okay with it.) It's an idea that has been swimming around in my head for a while now, but I never bothered to put it down on paper. And I'm kind of glad that I'm that lazy, since now I can use that idea. Anyway, this is a gift fic for MizuneMinamiki, who is a really nice person!_

* * *

Heavy breathing. She couldn't see in the dark – no, it was too dark – and she was terrified. The thumping of her footsteps was deafening in the blackness of the night; she was blind. She could sense, somewhere behind her, a menacing presence, almost there – fingers reached out, she squeezed her eyes shut and prepared to let out a deafening shriek of fear –

"Cut!" and she opened her eyes, instantly letting her balled fists uncurl and relax, wincing slightly as she flexed her stiff fingers. The sudden lights flooded the whole place, making her blink as her eyes slowly adjusted. "Great job, Miki," Leon smiled warmly at her, causing her to feel all fuzzy inside – it would be stupid to deny that she had a crush on him, but it was just a tiny schoolgirl crush, so she didn't think about it most of the time. Though, of course, it felt good to hear him praise her. "I think that's all, we should wrap up for the day…" Leon turned around to face the rest of the staff, and Miki slumped back against a convenient wall, gulping down a bottle of water which had been handed to her by one of the people on set.

She was an aspiring actress, relatively new to the industry, and sometimes she wondered if she was making the wrong choice, dealing in such a business. When she came here, young and desperate to make a name for herself, she hadn't expected all this – the tediousness of acting and learning her lines, the scarcity of acting offers, the lecherousness of fellow actors. Especially the last…she shuddered at the thought. Not that she experienced that particularly often, but she really disliked it whenever such occurrences came about. The previous movie she had appeared in…the male lead had thought that, with his looks and his money, he would be able to entice her into bed with him. She snorted at the memory – fat hope that was.

Men were all smooth talkers, with their charm and wits, especially those in the entertainment industry. She had been fooled and conned before, maybe one too many times, before she finally decided to give up on believing in men. _I'd rather focus on my career now than anything else – it's not like it's a must to have a romantic relationship of any sort. _Her cherry coloured irises flicked in the direction of the director – Leon was talking to one of the cameramen, a faint frown furrowing his eyebrows. Absent-mindedly, she smiled. Even so, she didn't have to force herself to stop looking at men…they could be pleasing to the eyes.

Leon was tall, blond-haired and green-eyed. He had an attractive face, with high cheekbones and an angular jaw, and just the right amount of charm and chivalry – she fondly recalled the time he saw her caught in the rain, and gave her his umbrella so she could get home, while he had to wait for the rain to stop. He would be a nice man to fall for, were it not for the fact that the man was happily married to a woman named Lola. But it was no matter to Miki – men were not necessary, and she didn't want to be in love in the first place. Love was a trap, a lie, nothing more than a delusion brought about by overdoses of sickly sweet fairy tales and _happily ever afters _– as an actress, she knew best how fake those endings always were.

Once off the big screen, the actors went back to being virtual strangers, and the whole happy story would unravel slowly, until it went back to being non-existent in the eyes of the actors and directors both. She let out a quiet sigh, placing her emptied bottle of water down upon a table – it was getting late, and she wanted to go home. "Leon," she called, reaching up to pull her hair band out of her hair – the bright red locks tumbled down, framing her slender body like a mass of writhing fire. People always asked her whether her hair was naturally so red.

And she always said yes. What else was she supposed to say? It was not natural – her eyes and her hair were both not natural, nothing more than gimmicks to attract the attention of potential punters and sponsors – but they had become so much a part of her get-up that they were now…natural to her, so to speak. The newcomer with the fiery hair and the cherry eyes, they called her. Miki Furukawa. She smirked as she thought back to her first appearance on television – she had started on television before slowly going towards movies – and her unique features had garnered plenty of attention and curiosity. Even now, they still did…

Leon turned back, his gaze startled. "Oh, Miki," he smiled, glancing quickly at the cameraman he had left hanging. "Could you make this quick? I still have to…" he gestured helplessly at the set. Miki tilted her head, her smirk turning into a more genuine smile. He was such a dear, really. If it were not for the fact he was married, she would have actually considered going for Leon. Too bad that what was past was past – and she had never been one to dwell too much on 'what-ifs' anyway. Miki hated looking back at the past.

"I'll be taking my leave now, if that's okay with you," she said politely – nothing more than a farce, everyone there knew that if she wanted to leave, there would be no stopping her. Leon nodded, his green eyes crinkling up into another one of his warm smiles – but before his lips could fully curve upwards, Miki had already grabbed her fur coat and walked out of the studio. She had plans for tonight, and filming this latest movie had already cut greatly into these plans – she didn't think she wanted to waste any more time hanging around the set. She had an appointment to keep, and if there was another thing she disliked, it was being late.

* * *

Piko Utatane reclined in his chair, his dual-coloured eyes roving across the dance floor. A light smirk flitted across his face – a woman came up to him, offering him a glass of some alcohol. Whiskey, he thought. He took the glass and toasted her; the woman laughed, winked at him flirtatiously, then sashayed off, shaking her hips with slow sensuality. He watched.

"Enjoying yourself, I see," a familiar voice pierced his thoughts, another person settling herself into the chair opposite his. Piko slowly glanced back, reluctant to look away from the show being put on for him – there was his good friend, Miki Furukawa, an amused smile dancing on her face. He sighed irritably, then reached out, offering her the glass of whiskey which had been given to him mere moments ago. She accepted, her amused smile turning into something more wry than he was used to. Miki had changed, that was what he felt. Not that he would ever be so foolish as to say that to _her _face – the Miki he knew hated looking back at the past. And saying she changed would remind her, undoubtedly, of the past.

"Even more so, now that I am blessed with your company," he drawled, running his fingers idly through his silvery-white hair. He narrowed his eyes slightly as the woman earlier turned back from the bar, watching him the way a predator would watch her prey…his smirk turned darker. _Prey, huh? _She was wearing a tight, figure-hugging dress that did little to cover up her lithe body. Piko would have been tempted were it not for the fact that she was practically throwing herself right at him – he had always like a bit of challenge, a bit of cruel teasing…

"As if," Miki scoffed, drawing his attention once again. She tilted her head, downing the glass of whiskey in one gulp, before she set the glass down loudly on the table, closing her eyes. "Ah, that was good," she breathed, rotating her shoulders. Piko gazed at her, arching an eyebrow – he wondered what was wrong. He knew her for long enough to know that she was stressed, even if she showed no outward sign of it. Miki usually did not finish off her drink in one whole gulp, especially not if it was alcohol. It made him wonder what had happened to her today, on set. Perhaps she was stressed about the filming…no, he threw that idea away.

The Miki he knew would never be stressed about such a minor thing. "What's wrong?" he decided to ask, though he knew she would not be pleased that he had noticed her differences. She stiffened slightly – it wasn't obvious, but he knew her that well – and a rigid smile came across her lips. "Not that you have to answer…" he added casually, swirling his glass around. The ice cubes clinked against the sides of the glass – he closed his eyes, waiting for her to bite. The sounds of the nightclub crowded around him; he enjoyed the crowd. It was good. It was welcome – it made him feel like he was in the centre of attention.

And of course, who didn't like being in the centre of attention? Most people would. Unless they happened to be Miki…but once again, all that happened to be back in the past. He really shouldn't bring the past up, though its ugly head kept rearing up, listening, waiting, and very, very attentive…he couldn't resist allowing a little laugh to bubble past his lips. _Now, now, really._ He was thinking too much. He came here specifically to forget, so he wouldn't have to think. Maybe it had been a bad idea to invite _her _out…after all, she, too, was a reminder of a past he hardly wanted to recall. The same reminder he was for her, he suspected.

"Nothing, really," she finally replied, sounding distant – as if she wasn't in the same nightclub as him, sitting right opposite him. "Just some stuff I realised while filming today. Vampires, honestly," she laughed, shaking her head. "Right after that werewolf one I just shot. People now are so obsessed with the supernatural; it's quite strange in itself. Don't you think, Piko…?" she fixed him with a stare. He didn't know whether he ought to feel uncomfortable or not – he didn't know what she was thinking. And that, in itself, was strange as well.

"If you say it is strange," he finally conceded, returning his gaze to the rich burgundy liquid in his glass. At that moment, the music changed, turning from hard and fast to something that was…slower. More waltz-like. He tilted his head, watching the gyrating couples on the dance floor stop halfway through their dance, grabbing each other, slowing their steps to match the music. He wanted to snort derisively at them – _do they deem that romantic? Does slowing down actually help in a relationship? It doesn't; if a relationship is destined to crash and burn, that won't change, no matter how much you slow down…_ "People are so silly, don't you find?" he asked quietly, his gaze never leaving the now waltzing couples.

Miki laughed. She laughed the derisive laughter he didn't release just now. _Oh, but she's changed. _"Of course they're silly. If people weren't silly, we wouldn't be people," she said, her voice condescending. "Silliness allows us to make mistakes…and, without mistakes, there would be no such thing as _people, _or _humanity_," the way she stressed the last word made him think, for a moment, that she was hinting at something. His gaze narrowed sharply at her, but she just smiled calmly back at him – nevertheless, he couldn't help feeling…

"Ridiculous," he finally said, sharply. "It is human to err…but it would be better not to err at all, no matter how much people say that it is impossible to be perfect. Those are just excuses made up so that people don't have to strive for perfection all the time. Excuses are for those who just aren't good enough," Piko crossed his legs, looking back at the dance floor. The woman earlier was still at the bar, staring intently at him. He smiled at her. She smiled back, her gaze beckoning. He chose to look away, and he knew that would infuriate her.

"Whatever you say, Utatane," after a moment's silence, Miki finally spoke up. She sounded amused. "Whatever you say," awkward quietness fell between them. Suddenly, abruptly, she spoke again – "Want to dance?" she nodded towards the dance floor. Piko arched an eyebrow, wondering what game she was trying to play here. He wouldn't be surprised if it was all just a game to her, honestly – because it was all just a game to him as well, wasn't it? _But she never would have treated all these as a game, once…maybe it's her job. Her job has changed her, jaded her in many ways. I'm not sure if I like the new her or not._

"If you want to," he finally said, a look of distinct boredom flitting across his face. "I'm not sure that there is anything else interesting to do in this club, anyway," he added, somewhat dismissively – his gaze lingered on her bare shoulders, dipping down to her waist and hips. His lips quirked up in sarcastic humour. "Looks like someone was dressed to impress," he crooned softly, leaning across the table so that his dual-coloured eyes could capture her own cherry ones. She jerked back, noticing the direction of his gaze – her eyes narrowed at him, and she tossed her head in disdain, fiery red hair flowing down her back. He chuckled.

"As if you had nothing better to stare at," was all she had in reply. He shrugged, admitting that this was the case – there were plenty of other women he could ogle at, but he just wanted to look at _her _specifically. It wasn't because he found her exceptionally beautiful – though he had to admit that she _was _quite a stunner – but more because he liked to unnerve her. It was simple enough to do that. He just had to be a little more…forward than he usually was. A little less sceptical, a little less seemingly removed from physical pleasures…and, even after all the years, even after all the changes, just these tiny actions were capable of throwing her off. He basked in the power he held over her – he enjoyed knowing that she was still susceptible to his nearness, no matter how much she might try to pretend that she was not.

Miki rose from the chair, all the while averting her gaze from her friend. Piko Utatane. Or, perhaps the word friend was a bit of a stretch. He could hardly be called a friend, yet they were definitely more than mere acquaintances…he was not a lover, nor was he a 'friend with benefits', so to speak. What did that make him? Their relationship was one of…master and servant, perhaps. _But who is the Master, and who is the Servant? _That remained to be seen. Piko remained seated for a moment – an act of sullen rebellion, perhaps – before he finally stood as well, sipping some more at the rich red wine in his glass before setting it down. "How unlike you," he commented dryly, "to actually be interested in dancing, Miki."

"We should all try new things every once in a while, don't you feel?" she asked in return, noticing with satisfaction the way he pursed his lips, as if searching for an answer for some sort. She hoped her reply, which was smooth and precise, didn't reveal any of her weakness – didn't show the way she _shivered _when he said her name…sensuous and slow, her name sounded like pure sin and temptation, the way it slid temptingly off his tongue. But Piko had always been a charmer; with one smile, women fell at his feet. His wealth and good looks didn't change that either. He would be considered perfect by a great many, she knew.

But she knew he was far from perfect. He knew that too, though he didn't like to admit it. He always thought he was flawless, as shown by the little conversation they had just now – but he knew, deep down, that he was very flawed. _For even the most perfect diamond in the world has a line of weakness somewhere, doesn't it? _If he somehow sensed what she was thinking, he didn't show it – he just extended a hand, and she took hold of it, allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor. They managed to slot themselves into an empty space, and once there, she looped her arms around his neck, letting him spin her around to the music.

Anyone who didn't know better would have thought that they were a couple. She knew that they certainly looked like a couple, but unlike all those other people, she knew they were anything but so. Not just because Piko was not her lover – she didn't want a lover, and even if she did…unconsciously, her lip curled. She would never choose Piko to be a lover, to be someone to trust and confide in. He was the most unreliable person she knew – the one who could be least trusted. He was charismatic, a good person to know, especially when one needed social connections – but he was not someone she would put all her money on, if she ever had to choose or bet. There were other people out there, all better than Piko Utatane…

"You frown because you dislike me," he said bluntly, so close to her that she felt her heart race in her chest. His dual-coloured eyes, piercing her, made her feel vaguely uneasy – she didn't know whether she ought to be wary of him or not, when they were so close to each other. "But you know it wasn't my fault, right?" he added, this time sounding a little irritable. A lock of his silver hair flopped over his green eye, but he ignored it – and that was when she knew how intently he was concentrating upon their conversation, because normally he would brush any stray locks of hair away from his eyes. He hated having his hair in his line of vision – which was strange to her, since he was the one who insisted on leaving it so long.

"Perhaps not," she conceded, "yet that does not mean you are trustworthy, does it, Piko?" the handsome man paused briefly, looking at her curiously. Something almost like a smile, almost like a smirk – but not quite – was tugging at the edge of his lips. She wondered what sort of expression he was trying to hide. "You remind me so much of the past that I fear I would never be able to trust you," she admitted, in a moment of sudden weakness. This time, a full-blown smile did cross his face, and she had to resist the urge to scowl. He would like nothing better than to see her frown while he gloated, she was certain of that.

The music changed again, going from the slow waltz back to something more energetic, more sexual and…violent. They didn't notice – or at least, they pretended not to, the two of them remaining so still that one might have thought them statues, were it not for the slight rise and fall of their chests, the occasional flicker of their eyes. "Master and slave," he whispered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "One would say I am the master over you. Or perhaps you are the master over me. You hold what I crave most, after all," his fingers inched down her face, sliding to her jaw, brushing lightly against her neck. Her pulse thrummed beneath his fingers.

"And how are you the master of me, then?" she challenged, in a muted sort of way. His eyes gleamed, his smile widening – for the first time that night, she saw him smile with his teeth. As always, she stared, rather fascinated by his teeth – they were always so sharp, to her. Especially the canines…yes, the canines, so delicately curved and sharp that if she didn't know better, she might have mistaken them to be fangs, or something of that sort…

Ah. But she didn't know better, did she?

"Why do you not want to fall in love?" he asked in return, smirk widening. "Ten years ago. Twenty years ago. Thirty years ago. And you, a young woman, aged twenty-five – or so you seem – have never taken a lover, not since thirty years ago," he crooned, causing her to stiffen; _but I don't like reminders of the past, and you know that, Piko Utatane. _"Why? You would know," he continued, cocking his head, looking remarkably birdlike. "Because I can bring you to heights of pleasure, pleasure of mind and soul and body, you know no one else can ever give to you," he whispered, voice turning husky. "You do want that, don't you?" his whisper snaked into her ear, slowly, temptingly… "You do know you desire me?"

She smiled. "Maybe I want you," her fingers dug into his neck. He didn't flinch or respond in any way. "Tonight," she breathed. "My place. You know what to do, don't you?" Of course he would know what to do. He did this almost every night, after all. It was silly of her to ask – but, like what they discussed, silliness was something human. She was most definitely human, so it was not wrong for her to be…how did he put it…ah, _silly. _She stepped back, away from him, waiting for some sort of reaction – just in case he did do something…

But all he did was smile.

* * *

_**Solitaryloner: **__Not really my usual style – no heavy fluff or anything like that. I know, I usually write fluff (albeit that of the more mature sort) and it's actually quite interesting to write something that doesn't have heavy romance in it. I might try it again some day._


End file.
